Healing
by Coffee Reveries
Summary: A small and angsty one-shot depicting the depression and trauma brought upon by war and also the friendship and blossoming romance of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, despite all of the terrible losses they've suffered.


**This was prompted by the Harmony & Co group's Lyric Llama challenge of May 2019. I'm two months late but am finally delivering. I'm thinking of turning this into a non-linear collection of one-shots depicting Harry and Hermione's friendship in the years following the war. There will be angst, fluff, hurt/comfort and even romance, but I can't promise to update too often, I have bigger projects in the making.**

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**HEALING**

1999

{…}

_'__Every thought is a battle,_

_Every breath is a war.'_

{…}

At some point in time she remembers him barging into her bedroom one afternoon. The windows were shut and the blinds pulled down rendering the room dark, the air stale and sour from old sweat. She lay in bed as though her very body had molded into the mattress, making it impossible to leave. Her limbs weighed heavily and the mere thought of getting up filled her with despair. She didn't sleep in those days, only closed her eyes and tried to ease the memories and all of the blood away—the blood on her hands and the blood that surrounded them all. Crumbled stone across the marble floors or the fields, piercing cries and pleas of help.

She remembers him barging into her room, upset, angry, shaking her as if that were enough to make her return to her senses. He carried her like a baby into the spartan, white-tiled bathroom—not a word escaping either of their mouths. He placed her still dressed in the old Cannons shirt and sweatpants under the shower and turned it on, letting the gradually warming water wash over her. Her clothes stuck to her body and his pale nimble fingers removed each piece—none of them thought this was much of a boundary he was crossing, though never before this moment he'd seen her in the bear flesh. There was no malice in his actions, but she could tell from the look in his Emerald-colored eyes that he had made 'fixing' her his mission. Poor Harry… He didn't realize that he needed fixing too.

He scrubbed her head to toe with _dove_ body soap, the kind her mother used. She felt the tears stinging at the corner of her eyes—she cried so much these days, it was a wonder she even still had tears willing to fall. There were no shampoo or conditioner left, so the very same soap was used for her hair—the effect would be atrocious, but she didn't care at all.

He wrapped her in a towel from the cupboard, fluffy and pink, from her childhood. He sat her on the wooden chair of her desk and ran a smaller towel through her hair, and then the comb—for hours and hours, until not a single knot remained. He sprayed a little bit of _eau de cologne_, a citrus and floral blend that had been a gift so long ago. And then he opened the doors of her antique wooden wardrobe, the kind that had a long oval mirror embedded on the middle door. He'd chosen a soft and loose-fitting white dress and a pair of black flats—she hadn't worn shoes in such a long time—she didn't like the stiffness of it, but didn't have the inclination to complain.

"It's your birthday today… You're finally twenty." He whispered as he held her up by the waist to gaze into the hateful mirror. Her eyes were downcast, she couldn't dare look at her reflection, no matter how nice she may look there'd still be blood in her hands… and that hateful scar that would forever remind her of the horrors and nightmares she'd endured. "I want to take you out…"

Fear and anxiety flickered in her dark eyes as they immediately gazed into his. It was the first time she even showed emotion, even if she looked like a small and tortured animal, scared and cornered without means to escape. Her eyes pleaded with him and she tried to squirm out of his hold, but his arms were strong as they pulled her against him, pressing her petite form against his chest, arms wrapping around her for protection, refusing to let her go.

"Ron would hate to see you like this, Hermione—this is not you…" He said in defeat when she managed to forcefully push him away his head banging against the wardrobe as a result. The metal handle also managed to pierce into his back, for a moment he saw stars. It was likely to leave a bruise. Hermione walked backwards toward the far wall and slid down against it until she sat on the floor, burying her face behind her knees.

_And now she'd hurt Harry too._

They sat opposite each other in absolute and cutting silence, minutes, hours passed. Each one lost in their thoughts and individual pain.

The light that he'd managed to let into the room upon pulling up the blinds were now gone. Her back ached, her legs were dormant. And then she could feel his eyes burning into her, skin beginning to tingle, heart beating fast like it hadn't in forever. This wasn't the height of battle. This was Harry—Harry her best friend, one of the last persons she loved.

She hesitated for a while, but finally willed her dark eyes to look into his, even if the expansion of her entire bedroom separated them. He was here despite everything. Despite her weakness, her avoidance, her heavy grief. Despite no longer being useful to him or to anyone really. She looked into his eyes and she could feel love in them, redemption even, she could feel a light tug to her very being, urging her to go on. She was Hermione Granger and he was Harry Potter, they'd always been there for one another, now was no different.

Her lips began to quiver, tears pooling into her heart. She couldn't speak, she couldn't breathe, but with him she felt like she could try. He didn't think twice before quickly crawling over, pulling her tight into his embrace, holding her, feeling her Hermione scent, the softness of her skin, her humid curls tickling his cheeks as he held her.

She'd always been there for him, it was the least he could do.

"_I-I'm sorry."_ She whispered, after a while, her sobs having subsided. It was the first time in weeks that he'd heard her voice, even if low and raspy.

"I'm here for you, 'Mi, always will be." He kissed the top of her head and they stayed that way, right until she turned twenty and a day.

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**This ****first chapter was based on the following lyrics by Skid Row, which obviously don't belong to me: "I'd stare a lifetime into your eyes. So that I knew that you were there for me, Time after time, you were there for me."**


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